Chapter Nine #8
Christopher was nearly sedate again. He proceeded to remove his boots, breeches, and tunic, laying them on a frame by the fire to dry them out, and snuffed out the candle. Nude, he climbed in bed next to his wife’s stiff body. They lay there in the darkness, listening to the rain, for a long while.
“How are your hands?” he asked.
“Fine,” she snapped.
He sighed. “I should wrap them.”
“Nay,” she said harshly. “I do not want your help. I do not need it. I want to go home.”
“Fine,” he said shortly. “I shall send you home tomorrow. You cause too much trouble.”
She rolled over, looking at his profile in the dim light. He was staring straight up at the ceiling.
“Fine,” she agreed angrily. “I do not want to be where I am not wanted. Mayhap I shall petition the church for an annulment, and since you think I am too much trouble, I am sure you will not contest it. You can keep Lioncross and I shall marry somebody else, somebody who will treat me as an equal.”
“And who would that be?”
She didn’t know, but she thought quickly and blurted the first name that came to mind. “Jeffrey.”
He turned to her in the darkness. “Kessler? Hell, he wouldn’t know what to do with you.”
Her anger was turning into hurt, and she rolled back over on her side away from him. “He loves me and would treat me well.”
He flipped her onto her back, his angry face looming over her. “Did he tell you that?”
His big body was halfway covering her, and his huge hands were gripping her forearms. She was forced to admit that she was intimidated.
“Of course not,” she said softly. “But I have heard the talk; I know what the men say.”
He studied her in the light of the distant fire and his grip eased, turning soft and caressing. “Yet you do not return these feelings.”
She shook her head. “Nay, husband, I only care for you,” she murmured, then scowled. “Even if you are cruel and demanding and harsh.”
He raised an eyebrow, but already she could see his gaze softening. “I am what you dictate, lady,” he said. “Were you not so stubborn and willful and mischievous, I would not have to be severe with you.”
The tenderness in his eyes filled her with warmth and awakening passion. She pulled her arm free of his grasp and ran her fingers through his hair. “Why did you attack that knight?”
“Why do you think? He insulted you and I could not allow that to go unpunished,” he said firmly.
“But I yelled at him first,” she reminded him, tracing her finger along his jawline.
He let out a long sigh. “You did, but no matter. You were defending the serving wench, which is admirable.”
The mood between them quickly moved from irritation to desire. He reached up and pulled her hand away from his head, studying her blistered palm. “I really should bandage your hands, Dustin.”
“Did you hurt your hands punching that man?” She turned the tables on him, looking at his knuckles. “You hit him very hard.”
He shrugged. “My hands are fine,” he said, looking at her again. “I saw you kick that soldier in the chest. Damnation, you are a ruffian.”
She flashed a quick, embarrassed smile, moving both hands to his head, touching him tenderly. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, for she knew she had been wrong in nearly every way and he had done what had been necessary to protect her.
“Chris?” she asked softly.
“Hmm?” he closed his eyes to her touch.
“Are you really going to send me home?” she asked.
He opened his eyes. “Are you really going to divorce me?”
She grinned and giggled, “No.”
“Then I won’t send you back,” he said, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.
His beard was scratchy and his breath warm and she began to melt against him. “Am I really a troublemaker?”
“The worst.” His voice was husky as he gently kissed her neck, her shoulders.
She didn’t say any more, giving herself over to him completely as his mouth caressed her gently at first, then more insistently.
He had her lift her arms at one point so that he could remove her woolen shift, which then landed on the floor next to her surcoat and boots.
He stopped a moment to gaze at her sweet body in the flicker of the firelight.
She watched his face, shuddering as he ran his finger lightly down her torso.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
His voice was rich and seductive. She hated sweet words; she’d always hated them. But hearing them from his mouth meant something to her. As he bent down to kiss her again, she put her fingers up to his lips.
“Tell me more,” she whispered.
His eyes glowed and he gave her a cocky sort of grin. “You are the most beautiful, sweet, luscious woman I have ever seen. Your eyes capture my heart and soul, Dustin,” he said, gathering her closer to him, kissing her again. “You are as perfect as I am.”
“More so,” she whispered into his hair as he dragged his mouth over her chest.
“Aye, more so,” he agreed, not wanting to talk anymore. He simply wanted to make love to her.
His manner was more urgent this night as the storm raged outside.
He suckled her harder and his hands were more insistent than they had been, but she responded to him openly, matching his passion.
His large hand stroked her tender folds, playing with her, arousing her juices.
He put two fingers in her and she moaned, pulling at his hair.
“Christ, you are wet,” he breathed.
“What does that mean?” she gasped.
He grinned, removing his fingers and placing his organ against her. “It means that your body wants me, sweetheart. It means that you want me to make love to you.”
She nodded wildly. “Aye, I do.”
He pushed himself up on his arms so he could look down at her and watch her body respond to him. When she brought her legs up, he pushed hard and drove into her in one thrust.
Dustin cried out softly, clutching at his hard buttocks. She felt his muscles contract as he thrust into her and it excited her terribly.
Christopher was riding on a haze of desire, driving into his wife as he had never made love before, watching her nipples harden in response to him.
Aye, he desired her, lusted for her, but his actions this night were not limited to those emotions.
He wanted to show his affection for her, to show her without words how deeply he was coming to care for her.
He wanted her to care for him as much as he was coming to adore her.
And he was rapidly coming to adore her, in spite of everything.
They achieved their pleasure together in a surge of contractions and emotions, with Dustin clinging to him and gasping so hard he thought she might be crying. But she wasn’t crying, merely overcome with the newness of the sensations he was creating within her. He liked awakening her desire.
They lay together in the dark room, only the sound of the rain as it beat against the building. Christopher’s lips rested on her forehead, his eyes staring into the darkness as he wondered how this little fireball of a woman managed to embed herself under his skin.
Dustin fell asleep in his arms, curled up against him like a kitten.
As much as he wanted to join her in slumber, he had to go find Marcus and find out what the man knew.
He was disturbed by the fact that Marcus had returned from the north quickly, which could only mean one thing, the lines were drawn quite decisively in either Richard’s or John’s favor. He must know what he was up against.
Leaving his wife tucked in with mounds of coverlets, he quietly donned his clothing and strapped on his sword and went to find Marcus.